Page 59 of Journey to You

But she had to tell Ethan the truth. She loved him, trusted him, and while he hadn’t said the words back, she knew he was a man of action rather than words. His admission, ripped from deep within, spoke volumes. He was a control freak and for someone like him, this powerful yet nebulous emotion gripping her would be terrifying for him.

She understood. But she wouldn’t wait around forever. A fresh start meant exactly that and if he wasn’t at the Taj…she’d cross that bridge if she had to.

“No good.” The woman pummelled her thigh muscles, lifted a leg, and dropped it. “Too tense. You go, come back tomorrow.”

Tamara opened her eyes and sat up, clutching the towel to her chest. “But I paid for an hour.”

The woman waved her away. “I will give you two hours tomorrow but today, useless. Your muscles—” she banged the wooden table with a fist “—hard as this.Abhyanganot work for you today.”

Tamara opened her mouth to protest again but the woman floated out of the room with a whirl of sari, leaving her cold, semi-naked, and rueing her decision to have a massage to unwind.

Maybe she would come back tomorrow. Then again, she had a feeling nothing could help release the pent up tension twisting her muscles into ropes of steel.

Nothing, apart from having Ethan arrive on her doorstep.

Twenty-Eight

Ethan had been here since daybreak, watching the pale dawn bathe the marble monument in translucent light, staying until dusk when the purple streaks turned the Taj Mahal luminescent, grateful the law only allowed electric vehicles within ten kilometres of this stunning monument to avoid pollution staining it.

He’d traversed the place from end to end, lingering around the main gateway, oblivious to the beauty of the entwined red lotus flowers, leaves, and vines motifs inlaid in semi-precious stones around the niche, always on the lookout.

He’d drifted past the red sandstone mosque on the western side of the Taj and the Taj Mahal Naggar Khana—Rest House—to the east, buoyed by hope.

He’d sat by the tranquil River Yamuna snacking on tiffin packed by the hotel, he’d strolled through the gardens, scanning the crowds for a glimpse of Tam.

Nothing.

An endless day where he’d haunted the Taj Mahal, a shadow to its greatness, drifting to every corner of the magnificent monument with hope in his heart lending speed to his feet.

He’d walked. And walked. And walked.

Always on the lookout, his gaze darting every which way, following the hordes, desperate for a glimpse of long dark hair and sparkling green eyes.

Still nothing.

And the day was almost over.

Maybe Tam had got tired of waiting and changed her mind?

Maybe she was holed up in some ashram seeking higher guidance?

Or planning a trek up Everest? Or back in Goa?

Wherever she was, she wasn’t here.

He rubbed his eyes, and refocussed on the crowd heading towards the Taj. This was crazy. A waste of time.

He could spend a lifetime here and she probably wouldn’t turn up.

This was the last hour he’d wait.

Come tomorrow, he’d instigate a plan to track her down. In the meantime, he had one more lap of the grounds to complete.

Twenty-Nine

Tamara’s breath caught at her first glimpse of the Taj Mahal, as it did every day she’d come here on the off chance Ethan may arrive early.

As the sun set, the faintest pink blush stole across the marble, the highest dome a breathtaking silhouette against the dusk sky.

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